


next time on hoarders

by Dandybear



Series: next time on [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Mentions of Jessica Jones - Freeform, Mentions of Luke Cage, adult conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: “I brought home beer too. Blonde?” She offers.“I like my beer how I like my women.” Peter has a strawberry seed stuck in his grin.Michelle emphasizes her double chin in the ‘not-impressed-with-whatever-joke-you’re-about-to-make-and-don’t-you-dare-say-a-colour-Parker’ look she shoots him.He grabs the offered beer and says, “From New York.” Then kisses her chin.--Michelle gets home from a conference and finds that Peter's had a rough day.





	next time on hoarders

**Author's Note:**

> lmao what even is this. it's like 4k words of plot bunnies where I threw a point in at the last minute. i wanted to describe their apartment. these two weirdos still being very much the same while being Functioning Adults.
> 
> sorry if the kids seem ooc. this is supposed to be like ten years in the future where they are more adult and better at communicating. (the boys understand that Michelle's affection comes in the form of verbal barbs and have since learned how to spar with her.)

Michelle gets off the train at Penn Station. Peter isn’t answering his texts or spamming the group chat with memes, so he’s probably indisposed and not picking her up.

 

She shrugs it off and pulls the handle up on her suitcase. Subway it is. The train’s oddly packed for this time of day on a Saturday, but she chocks it up to getting on at Penn. She stands, leaning on her suitcase across from a woman sitting with her toddler. The kid keeps making faces at Michelle and she tries to be stoic for a few seconds before making faces back. (It it literally the world’s cutest toddler though. It has duckling rain boots, afro twists, and an Elmo shirt.

 

Harlem’s closer to Columbia for her, and Manhattan for Peter. It just makes sense that they made the move. It comes with the perk of running into Luke Cage more often. (They have standing plans for coffee that they still haven’t turned into an actual coffee date. The opposing schedules of two people who have three jobs. Maybe they’ll get to hang out in their twilight years.)

 

Michelle picks up a box of beer, basket of strawberries, and a bouquet of daffodils from the bodega. 

 

Their apartment is around the corner from a bubble tea shop that is deteriorative to both of their health because she loves tea and Peter has the tastebuds of a hummingbird. She has to haul her suitcase up three flights of stairs because they pay two grand a month to not have a working elevator, apparently.

 

It’s a good workout and maybe she’s a little red faced and cranky by the time she gets to the door.

 

She rattles the keys a few times because the security system’s supposed to let her know if there’s a supervillain waiting in her living room. Silence. All good.

 

Michelle feels the tension leave her spine as she enters her garbage apartment. Garbage being both accurate and affectionate. Fame and a generous Stark stipend has not made Peter any less of a human possum. Their wallpaper, a vintage Thomas the Tank Engine design. (It’s a little faded, but so are they.) The umbrella stand was probably some art student’s midterm. (It doesn’t stand very well, but it does look like a hairy leg so she loves it.) The massive speakers that double as book tables. The cat, a ragdoll they named ‘Momo’ after Avatar, also a garbage find. Only Peter would find a thousand dollar cat digging through the trash.

 

Momo is the first to greet her. He ‘brrip’s and rubs his face on her suitcase.

 

“Hey Momo, where’s Peter?” She says, taking her bra off and hanging it on a coat hook.

 

“He’s having a nap on the ceiling.” Comes Karen’s cool voice.

 

Michelle jumps. Karen is not a garbage find, but a ‘Tony Stark could get in on the Siri or Alex market, but instead just makes AI helpers for all of his friends’ thing. It was weird at first, but adrenaline makes Peter open up about his problems in a way he still isn’t comfortable doing at home. (They’re working on it in therapy.) Karen’s her inside girl. 

 

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Michelle says.

 

There’s mail on the kitchen table. She puts her strawberries on the bills because it’s just a waste of paper at this point.

 

“Do you want the full week’s events or abbreviated?” Karen says.

 

“Highlight reel from the week and then what happened today.” Michelle says.

 

Their fridge is filled with leftover pasta and Korean takeout. May must’ve come over.

 

“May came over for dinner on Monday and Wednesday. She and Peter talked about her new relationship and she hinted heavily that he should propose to you.”

 

Michelle wrinkles her nose at that. It must be an old fashioned hang up of May’s, because  _ she knows  _ that Peter would never just drop on one knee without having a lot of conversations with  _ her  _ about marriage. 

 

“Sandman robbed a bank on Thursday--”

 

“That guy is in the wrong place. He could be making bank in the Middle East. Why stay in New York when your power is sand?” Michelle says.

 

“Peter said the same thing.” Karen laughs.

 

“There was a party at Harry Osborn’s house Friday night. Peter attended for half an hour.” She says.

 

“Gross.” Michelle says.

 

She gives up on making enough room for the box of beer and just tears it open to put the bottles in individually.

 

“Today, Peter was yelled at by J. Jonah Jameson, had his bike stolen, and had to take the subway home. There was a power outage that resulted in his train car being stuck in the tunnel for twelve minutes. Due to a traffic accident and the broken down subway, there was congested streets, people stuck downtown, and several fights broke out.” Karen says.

 

Michelle tchs. Good thing she got beer and flowers.

 

“Glad I missed all that.” She says.

 

She cracks a beer and takes a sip. Momo bites at her sock until she follows him to the bedroom.

 

The bed is new. She couldn’t do a garbage bed. It’s a Casper (she listens to  _ a lot  _ of Welcome to Nightvale) and a graduation present from her mother. It’s like a cloud, not that Peter seems to care as he is presently passed out dangling from the ceiling like a bat. (It was a serious consideration they had to make when picking apartments. He needs to be able to crawl on every surface, because, like she said, Possum.)

 

She has no idea how radioactive spider blood prevents him from getting red faced and headaches from dangling like that. He looks cute though. He’s freshly showered and his hair is in damp, fat curls. He’s frowning and his lips are moving. He must be having an argument in his dream. (He once woke her up with a “spat” he was having with Sam over who was gonna make pancakes for his pet turtles.)

 

The only thing he’s wearing is “his” favourite pair of joggers. (He stole them from her gym bag in Senior year and wore the most innocent look when she called him on it. Fucker.)

 

She traces a line from the vee of his hips to his jaw with her eyes. Her index finger twitches, wanting to feel how soft and warm he is after a week of separation. (It’s kind of disgusting how she still follows him around like a lost puppy even though she’s no longer a thirsty fifteen year-old virgin.)

 

The ceilings are high enough for him to stand on, but not too tall for them not to knock heads at current height. Michelle takes advantage by stopping close enough to be face to face. She gently traces the cleft of his chin, down to his lips, his cheeks, then stroking his messy eyebrows.

 

Peter comes to life in a flutter of eyelashes and a licking of lips.

 

“Hi.” He says, soft with sleepiness.

 

“Hey, Tiger.” (He prefers it to Possum) She says, kissing his nose.

 

He hums at that, then squints, properly waking up now.

 

“You’re back.” He frowns.

 

“I am.” She says.

 

“I was gonna meet you at the station. Karen was supposed to wake me up.” He rubs his eyes.

 

“You needed the rest.” Karen chimes in.

 

Peter speaks through a yawn, “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

 

“You have slept an average of three point five hours a night in the past week.” Karen says.

 

“Karen, don’t call me out like this.” Peter mutters.

 

“Insomnia?” Michelle says.

 

“Not even, just busy nights.” Peter yawns again.

 

“Go back to sleep then. I’m gonna call the Bao place for some soup dumplings and noodles.” Michelle says.

 

Peter makes a noise and Michelle doesn’t let her expression change as she’s lifted into the air for the sixty-nine of hugs.

 

“Missed you.” He says into her sternum.

 

“Missed you too.” She mouths against navel.

 

Peter shivers at the movement and Michelle would be lying if this wasn’t what she was thinking about for most of the three hour train ride back.

 

He lowers her back to the floor and does a sit up to grab the ceiling so that he can drop down. Michelle tries to fix the strap of her sundress, gives up, and sheds it in exchange for a T-shirt she finds on the floor.

 

She’s still got it in her hands when Peter gives her another hug. She cherishes the feeling of Skin on skin. She drops the shirt to wind her arms around his waist and tuck her face into his neck.

 

“Hi.” Peter says.

 

“Hi.” Michelle says.

 

He’s giving her his boyishly charming grin and it pisses her off that he can still get her to feel shy and flustered.

 

“I missed you.” He says, kissing her forehead.

 

“Mm… I guess I noticed your absence.” Michelle shrugs.

 

“You are so full of shit.” Peter laughs.

 

“Come on, Parker, I have a reputation here.” She pretends to be serious.

 

He pinches her waist and runs his fingers up her sides. She shoves him away, putting on the shirt and heading towards the kitchen.

 

“You want anything else for dinner?” She says, picking her phone off the table

 

“Just you!” Peter says.

 

Michelle crosses her legs at that. Karen takes that as a cue to put on their ‘intimacy playlist’ as she calls it. (Michelle calls it ‘Booty Time’.)

 

Donald Glover croons from the stereo and Michelle mouths along while the phone rings. She orders in Mandarin because she needs to keep her pronunciation from getting rusty.

 

They say it’ll be done in half an hour, which is exactly how far away their apartment is from the restaurant. However, her boyfriend is Spider-Man and he can make the trip in three minutes.

 

Giving them twenty-seven glorious minutes to greet each other.

 

‘Welcome Back’ sex has kind of become a thing. (Not that Michelle is into the idea of ‘expected sex’. Expectation is a relationship killer. She knows Peter and she knows that he’s always trying to do the right thing, so she’s not going to get upset if he misses events because she’s built up some unreasonable expectation of what he can and cannot do within a day. He tries to keep the same attitude. (They work on it in therapy.)) Because when one member of the relationship gets shipped all over America for talks with universities and science departments and politicians, and the other member of the relationship is _Spider-Man,_ they don’t know how long it’s going to be between seeing each other. It goes all the way back to losing her virginity in his bunk bed after he fought a giant purple space man. (He lasted two minutes in bed.((The First Time. The second and third times that happened right afterward were Very Satisfying.)) One minute longer than he lasted against Thanos.)

 

He comes out of the bedroom grooving and grabs her from behind. Michelle bites her lip at feeling his bulge against her.

 

“Did you enjoy the conference?” He says.

 

“Mmhm. It was pretty great to be in a room with so many black women talking without being interrupted.” Michelle says.

 

“I watched the livestream. You were amazing up there.” He kisses her neck.

 

“You already have the flattery merit badge, Peter.” She says, turning in his arms.

 

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.” He looks at her from under his eyelashes.

 

Twenty-five minutes.

 

He blinks at her, then at his pants that are now around his ankles. Michelle strokes his thighs on her way to her knees.

 

“You don’t have to--hooolyshit.” He says.

 

She always likes surprising him with head, because no matter how many times she blows him he always acts like it’s some kind of burden to her and not like the most fun way of getting him to make noises. 

 

He white knuckles the counter. An incident involving his hands doing their sticky gland thing and her freshly teased afro has him banned from hair pulling. She offers a single hand for holding and he tangles their fingers. 

 

“Fuck, Michelle.” He says shakily.

 

She loves watching him like this. His eyes fluttering, gasping and moaning all because of her mouth.

 

Nineteen minutes. Now, to tease him into lasting the whole nineteen or make him finish now as an appetizer for the rest of the evening?

 

She looks up to see him biting his knuckle. Hell yes.

 

“Michelle I’m gonna…” He stammers.

 

She rolls her eyes, of course he’s gonna cum, she’s been best friends with his dick for years. It’s nice of him to warn her though.

 

He yelps and squeezes her shoulders as he finishes.

 

Michelle wipes at her mouth then grunts at how sore her knees are.

 

Peter helps her up and greets her with an open mouthed kiss.

 

“What a wonderful home-coming gift.” He says, grinning at the pun.

 

“Shut up, Nerd.” She says, kissing his jaw.

 

“Make me.” He sticks his tongue out.

 

“I intend to put your mouth to much better use...” She traces his lower lip and he nips at the finger, “After dinner.”

 

Then she pulls away, leaving him with his pants around his ankles in the middle of the kitchen. She slaps his bare ass. Peter yips.

 

“Get dressed. The Chinese food game in Providence is weak.” 

 

“Dumplings for my queen of Queens it is.” He disappears into their bedroom.

 

Michelle takes a swig of beer get the taste of cum out of her mouth.

 

“Back in five.” He says, dressed in what would be record time for other people.

 

“‘Kay.”

 

He kisses her softly like a whisper before slipping out onto the balcony.

 

She puts the kettle on for jasmine tea and digs some sticky rice out of the fridge.

 

Momo meows like he’s starving to death, but his bowl is full.

 

“Nice try, Cat.” She scratches his ears.

 

Michelle starts unpacking her suitcase in the bedroom. Bras and underwear are deposited in a pile on the floor. Her true prize is hidden at the bottom. She leaves it on the bed for Peter to see. Fuck it. She moves the picture and flops onto the bed.

 

She loves their fluffy bed and their messy room in their trash and treasure apartment. It sucks that it’s a one bedroom and they’re going to need to upgrade in the future.

 

The kettle whistling keeps her from falling asleep.

 

“Karrrrennn, turn off the stove.” Michelle whines.

 

“You know that I can’t. The kitchen doesn’t have an appliance made after 1998.” Karen says.

 

“Why don’t you have a robot body yet? You’re ten times better than Vision.” Michelle rolls off the bed.

 

“I will inform Tony of your request.” Karen says, sounding pleased.

 

“Nah, don’t let Tony make it. He’d give you robot titties and I just can’t handle that on an emotional or intellectual level. What do you think you would look like, Karen?” Michelle says.

 

“That is a good question. I’ve only ever interacted with humans and other machines, so a humanoid machine does make sense. Hmm.” Karen stops talking to process.

 

Michelle turns off the kettle just in time for the screaming to be replaced by Peter’s falsetto.

 

“My peanut butter chocolate cake with kool-aid!” He actually does a pretty good impression of Gambino.

 

He deposits the food on the kitchen table, moving the mail she ignored earlier and grabbing a strawberry.

 

“Mm, good idea.” He says.

 

“I brought home beer too. Blonde?” She offers.

 

“I like my beer how I like my women.” Peter has a strawberry seed stuck in his grin.

 

Michelle emphasizes her double chin in the ‘not-impressed-with-whatever-joke-you’re-about-to-make-and-don’t-you-dare-say-a-colour-Parker’ look she shoots him.

 

He grabs the offered beer and says, “From New York.” Then kisses her chin.

 

“Ughhh… I hate you.” She says.

 

“You love me.” He says.

 

“I tolerate you because you have a great butt and don’t try to ‘introduce’ me to jazz.” She says.

 

Michelle pushes him away from the counter he has her pinned against to unpack dinner. They’re moving in the dangerous territory of letting the food get cold because they’ll be otherwise occupied.

 

“Have you ever heard of Miles Davis?” He says in a faux-hipster voice.

 

“Ughhh.” 

 

She can’t believe she’s going to have kids with this loser. Little rugrats with brown eyes and dark hair and cleft chins. 

 

They sit opposite each other with her crossed ankle brushing his knee. She checks the news on her phone while he squirts sri racha onto his noodles.

 

“They’ve cleared up that accident downtown.” She says.

 

“Good. People were getting antsy being trapped in Manhattan.” He checks his own phone.

 

“I think Ned has a new girlfriend he isn’t telling us about.” He adds.

 

“I haven’t been keeping up in the chat this week. What makes you think that?” She says.

 

“He said he hooked up with this girl from Australia while he was in Thailand, but he’s been pretty tight lipped about it.” He says.

 

“So, maybe he’s not kissing and telling.” Michelle says.

 

She plucks an abandoned book off of the mini fridge and squints at it. (When was she even reading ‘Valerian et Laureline’? Oh, it’s Peter’s.) she looks up she sees Peter puffing his cheeks at her.

 

“Right. You two tell each other everything.” She says.

 

“I told him about the hand job you gave me in the back of the bus right after it happened.” Peter says, voice squeaking.

 

Michelle smirks at the memory of that, “I told you I would make winning our Senior decathlon worth your while.”

 

His ears and neck are red. Taking it further, she moves her ankle up from his knee to press her heel against his crotch.

 

Peter drops his chopsticks, shakes his head, and finishes chewing.

 

“Bed.” He says.

 

“Soup dumplings don’t microwave well.” She whines.

 

He growls.

 

Michelle makes him watch her finish eating dinner. (One, they’re really good dumplings. Two, they get all soggy and congealed in the fridge. And, three, sex is always better when he’s all riled up from her teasing.)

 

She goes to wash the dishes afterwards and he actually stomps like a child throwing a tantrum.

 

“Use your words.” She says.

 

Peter picks her up and throws her over his shoulder.

 

Michelle’s always been proud of her ability to keep quiet. (She started a rumour at school that she didn’t even cry as a baby.) It helps when entering area’s she’s not supposed to and hearing things she’s not supposed to hear. (Like the identity of Spider-Man.)

 

Michelle Jones cannot for the life of her stay quiet when her boyfriend is mauling her vagina. She shrieks and pulls at his hair. Her body never knows how to respond to the stimulation, so she ends up kicking his back and pulling him closer in a violent dance that Peter really enjoys.

 

(Hypothesis: He enjoys it for the same reason that he enjoys fighting crime and working for J. Jonah Jameson. Peter is a masochist.)

 

His mouth is wet when he kisses her. She’s still shaking from the orgasm.

 

“Fuck.” She gasps.

 

He rolls over to grab a condom from the nightstand. Michelle eyes the package, then Peter, then the ceiling, then the cat who has somehow got the bedroom door open and is trying to get up on the bed.

 

“Peter.”

 

He tears open the package, “MJ?”

 

“You don’t need that.” She eyes the condom.

 

“Condoms are the best way to prevent STIs and pregnancy.” He says.

 

She rolls her eyes, “Unless you’ve been collecting strains of gonorrhea while I was gone, that first part isn’t a problem.”

 

Peter turns fully to face her. Michelle keeps her eyes on the ceiling.

 

“Grad school provides a good window before choosing either NASA or politics.” She says.

 

“A good window for what?” Peter is being annoyingly dense.

 

“Having a kid.” She finally looks him in the eye.

 

Peter releases a short breath and bursts into tears.

 

Alarmed, Michelle sits up to touch his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry. Sorry.” He grabs her hand.

 

“I just never thought that--on account of my condition.” He says.

 

“Condition?” Michelle says.

 

“I’m a radioactive mutant, Michelle. Our kids could have eight legs or weird pincers.” He says.

 

How has she never seen this insecurity before? She needs to do better.

 

“Is that a rational fear?” She says.

 

Inquiring minds want to know. (She’s gonna send Ned the results of the conversation.)

 

“Doctor Connors says that there isn’t any sign that I’ll go all… Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. He also says that I’m the first of my kind and they didn’t know how radiation would affect the children of Hiroshima and Nagasaki either. I could be giving you cancer for all we know.”

 

She does know about that fear.

 

“Peter, we’re all pre-cancerous and Doctor Connors said that you aren’t spreading radiation around. Is there anything else you’re worried about?”

 

He’s wiping tears away, “I have a low sperm count.”

 

“So you’re telling me we get to try, try again?” Michelle cups his face and strokes his hair with her fingertips.

 

“You might never get pregnant from my little guys.” He says.

 

Michelle bites her lip, “I’d rather a thousand tries with you than anyone else.”

 

It’s so corny, but it makes his eyes sparkle. He presses their foreheads together.

 

“Okay.” He says.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve always joked about us having kids and Ned says our hypothetical offspring would be gorgeous. I hope they have your eyebrows.”

 

She giggles and pulls him into her lap. They kiss to get him hard again. Then, he’s pressing her into the mattress and pulling her legs around his waist. His eyes are doing that weird thing they do when he’s overstimulated and trying to concentrate.

 

“Sorry.” He mumbles into her shoulder.

 

“You good?” She strokes his left eyebrow.

 

“I can feel everything.” He bites his lip.

 

“We’ve got all night.” She says.

 

He starts humming the melody of ‘All Night’ and she giggles. It works on centering him and he starts to move.

 

(Kiss up and rub up and feel up on you.)

 

She gropes his ass and scratches red lines into his back. Peter gives as good as he gets, marking her neck and thighs with love bites and bruises the shape of his hands on her hips.

 

The sun has sunk by the time they’re done and Momo has retreated to the other corner of the apartment. Michelle’s on her back with Peter cuddling her side. He’s drawing designs on her ribcage while she reads aloud from ‘The Temple of My Familiar’.

 

Peter’s phone rings from its spot charging on their stack of books that substitutes as a bedside table.

 

He rolls off her and Michelle misses his warmth.

 

“Hey Ned!” He says.

 

“Hi Ned.” Michelle says, grabbing her bookmark and setting the novel down.

 

“Michelle says, ‘Hi’. Do you wanna just FaceTime? Okay talk to you in a sec.” Peter says.

 

He hangs up and opens the FaceTime app. They wait for Ned to call and Michelle paws around the covers in search for the shirt she was wearing. The line connects. Too late. Ned’s gonna just see her boobs.

 

“Oh, you’re having sex.” Ned says.

 

“We just finished like ten minutes ago, actually.” Peter says, sitting up.

 

“Congrats.” Ned says.

 

He’s kind of used to seeing them like this. It’s their college experience in a nutshell. Michelle flips Ned off, he mirrors the action. She smiles.

 

“I haven’t had a chance to see your conference yet, but Peter won’t shut up about it.” Ned says.

 

Peter grins.

 

“It was cool. I got to talk. More importantly, I got to listen.” Michelle says.

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off Gandhi.” Ned says.

 

“What about you, how’s the trip going?” Michelle says.

 

“Well, the chip isn’t ready yet, which is why I’m here in Laos instead of Malaysia. Just enjoying the food and culture. Peter, they eat spiders here.” Ned says.

 

“Whaaatt that’s crazy.” Peter says.

 

“So, Peter tells me you hooked up with a girl.” Michelle cuts to the chase.

 

Ned rubs the back of his head, “Yeah, I did. She was from Australia.”

 

“Was she a serial killer? They have the highest rate of serial killers in the world.” Michelle says.

 

“She wasn’t a serial killer,” Peter stage whispers to her, “Was she, Ned?”

 

“I dunno. Turned out she was a politician for the Australian Liberal Party.” He says with a wince.

 

“Well, that’s good?” Peter squints at him.

 

“Oh my god. Ned fucked a Republican.” Michelle says.

 

Ned rubs his face, “I didn’t know. Michelle, don’t roast me for this.”

 

“I have so much ammunition.” She says.

 

“Mercy. I beg of you.” Ned says.

 

Michelle sighs and relents, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

 

Peter slaps the bed at that and beams at Ned, “Michelle wants to have a baby.”

 

Ned gasps.

 

“Are you pregnant? Are you taking neonatal vitamins? You know you gotta stop drinking, right? Can I be the Godfather? Is it gonna be like… one baby or a whole spider’s nest of babies that grow into human sized babies? Are they gonna have eight legs?” Ned says.

 

Peter is nodding and frowning about all of this. It’s blowing his mind.

 

“We just started Trying For Baby.” Michelle says, patting Peter’s thigh.

 

“Congratulations guys, I’ve never been happier for you to overshare that you’d just been rawing before I called.” Ned says.

 

Michelle yawns, feeling herself fading from the long day’s travel. She’s content to doze while her boys catch up. Peter moves the phone to cut her out of the frame so she can rest.

 

“It must be getting late over there. I should let you guys go.” Ned says.

 

“You’re good though, right?” Peter says.

 

“Yeah, I’m good. Looking forward to heading back to NYC at the end of the month. I miss my birds.” Ned says.

 

“They miss you. We do too.” Peter says.

 

“I can tell by the memes you send me.” Ned says, “Shit. You guys are gonna be parents. That’s so cool.”

 

Peter nods, yawning himself this time, “Yeah, I’m gonna be a Spider-Dad.”

 

Michelle plays with Peter’s curls, “Spider-Dad.” She repeats.

 

Peter and Ned do the one-handed version of their handshake on the phone before hanging up. Peter yawns and puts his phone down.

 

“Ned made me think of something.” Peter says.

 

“That’s dangerous.” Michelle says.

 

He rolls his eyes at her and settles back at her side. He throws a leg over her hip and when he speaks it’s against her collarbone.

 

“If you wanted to start trying to get pregnant today then why did you buy a twelve pack of beer?” 

 

Michelle stares at the ceiling.

 

“Fuck.” She says.

 

“‘Cause I don’t feel comfortable drinking when you can’t.” Peter says.

 

“Right. We’ll just have to invite Jessica over.”

 

"I feel like that's enabler behaviour." Peter says.

 

Michelle hums, falling asleep.

 

"Oh shit!" She sits up. 

 

Peter jolts, "What's wrong?"

 

"Your present!" She paws around for her glasses and turns the lamp on.

 

"Present?"

 

"I got you a souvenir." She says.

 

"I like souvenirs." He says.

 

Peter gets up to help her look. She finds it under the bed and hands it to him.

 

"It's me!" Peter points to the charcoal drawing.

 

"He was doing five dollar portraits on the boardwalk and I asked him to draw Spider-Man." She says.

 

Peter gets up to put it on his desk. He plans on dedicating a whole wall to Spider-Man art.

 

"I love it. Thank you." He says, kissing her when he gets back.

 

"We're gonna need to move back to Queens if I get pregnant." Michelle says.

 

"Well, it's a good thing we have the Thomas the Dank Engine wallpaper, we're gonna get so many offers."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> me: stop writing domestic superhero smut with babies ever after  
> dark me: you can pull this from my cold dead hands
> 
> reviews are lovely and sustain my life force


End file.
